


Unpredictable

by sickly _sweet (sketchy_and_unformed)



Category: CKY (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort kind of, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-22
Updated: 2005-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchy_and_unformed/pseuds/sickly%20_sweet
Summary: Chad took some time to light a cigarette before replying with, "Kid, I've known this guy for probably seven years, and Jess has even longer. Do we look like we know how the hell to deal with him?"There was a sudden movement to his left as Deron rose from his chair and walked quickly into the bunk section of the bus, closing the door firmly behind him.Livejournal repost.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Livejournal reposts: CKY/HIM





	Unpredictable

"Seriously dude, what the fuck is up?"  
  
Deron glanced suspiciously from beneath his eyelashes.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean," Jess pushed himself away from where he'd been leaning in the doorway and crossed the room to the couch where Deron sat, "you're practically nocturnal these days, dude. This is like the first time I've seen you in daylight for two weeks. Actually, it's the first time I've seen you at all, except during shows. So what's up with that?"  
  
Deron shrugged and attempted a smile, shifting his weight slightly. "Nothing's up. You know I never sleep right."  
  
Jess nodded with a concerned frown. "Sure. When something's bothering you."  
  
That made Deron look up with a frown of his own, arms folded, guarded. Jess sighed and sat beside him.  
  
"Come on. This insomnia thing. It's always been all in your mind."  
  
Deron snorted. "Yeah, 'cause I love not sleeping. It really makes me feel great."  
  
"Come on dipshit, that's not what I mean. It happens when you're fucked up over something, and you know it does."  
  
A look of discomfort passed over Deron's face before he dismissed it. "Bullshit. It's just the touring schedule. It takes some getting used to."  
  
"Uh-huh," Jess mumbled as he looked away, unconvinced but unwilling to force the issue. He'd tried getting Deron to talk enough times to know that it would be useless.  
  
After a couple of minutes thought, Jess stood, stretching and wincing as the tendons in his arms clicked loudly.  
  
"Alright, I'm gonna go find Matt. When I get back we should, you know, hang out or something."  
  
Deron smiled even as he knew his next words would be a lie. "Sure. I'll see you in a few."  
  
Once Jess had left the bus, Deron watched carefully through the window to see which direction he took, then grabbed his iPod and headed the opposite way, making sure he didn't attract the attention of any fans who might have been lurking around the venue. He walked quickly, head down and hands deep in his pockets, until he found a bar far enough from the venue to be safe for a couple of hours. He bought a beer and threaded his way through the small lunchtime crowd, settling into a booth in the back corner. He toyed listlessly with the bottle as the familiar noise of Malevolent Creation filled his ears, drowning out the silence. After a few minutes he reached into his back pocket and brought out a small photograph; Bianca, his baby girl. A casual observer might have noticed his expression sharpen as he looked at it, eyes shimmering, lips tightened. Then the picture was tucked safely away, half of the beer disappearing down his throat, his eyes closing and his head falling back against the faded fabric of his seat.  
  
He couldn't have noticed Chad leaning against the bar, watching silently with concern written all over his face.  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
"At midday?"  
  
"Yeah. But, think about the other days he's been off the bus at nine or ten."  
  
"Shit, you're right. So he's just running off and drinking?"  
  
Chad shrugged. "Maybe. He was today."  
  
Jess bit his lip. "He won't tell me what's wrong."  
  
Chad smiled wryly. "He never does."  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
Deron quickly slid the photograph back into his pocket as he saw Chad approaching along the corridor. He greeted him with a smile.  
  
"Hey man."  
  
"Hey," Chad echoed, pausing in his movement, eyes fixed on Deron, observing. After a moment he placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, squeezing slightly before letting go and walking on, a blur of leather and cigarette smoke. Deron stared after him, trying to ignore the lump forming in his throat.  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
Matt glanced up from the cards in his hand, over to where Deron sat alone, bouncing his legs and drumming out an unheard rhythm on his knee, staring at nothing.  
  
"Is he always like this?"  
  
Jess discarded two cards and shook his head. "Not exactly. The thing with Deron is..."  
  
"He's kind of unpredictable," Chad finished, punctuating the sentence with a swig of beer and a lingering look at the reclusive guitarist in question. Deron lifted his eyes briefly, paused for a second before returning to whatever the hell it was he was doing. Matt looked slightly uneasy.  
  
"I kinda wish I knew you all better better. So I could maybe say something? It's...kind of worrying."  
  
Chad took some time to light a cigarette before replying with, "Kid, I've known this guy for probably seven years, and Jess has even longer. Do we look like we know how the hell to deal with him?"  
  
There was a sudden movement to his left as Deron rose from his chair and walked quickly into the bunk section of the bus, closing the door firmly behind him. Jess threw his cards down on the table with a sigh.  
  
"I have to try and talk to him. This is getting ridiculous."  
  
⋄✧⋄  
  
"Deron?"  
  
The guitarist hastily returned the photographs to beneath his pillow before tentatively peering out from behind his bunk curtain.  
  
"What's up, Jess?"  
  
"Don't give me that. Come on. Spill."  
  
Deron disappeared behind the curtain again and Jess cursed under his breath before raising his voice.  
  
"Fuck's sake, whatever it is you need to get the fuck over it, dude. We're all worried about you, and sooner or later it's gonna start affecting the shows. Quit being such an asshole for like two minutes and tell me what's going on."  
  
Two blue eyes appeared, showing disbelief.  
  
"I'm being an asshole?"  
  
Jess snorted. "When _aren't_ you being an asshole, Deron? You're such a fuckin' ego-maniac sometimes."  
  
Deron pulled the curtain back more, propping himself up against the pillows and setting his jaw defiantly. "How do you figure?"  
  
The drummer's expression softened and he leant down towards Deron.  
  
"Look, dude, don't get me wrong. I mean, I know you don't just do this for drama. I know you've had problems, anxiety or whatever, the drinking thing. But. I think right now you're torturing yourself. You always think too much, you keep everything inside. All you have to do is talk to us instead of shutting yourself off like this. It doesn't have to be such a big deal."  
  
Deron abruptly turned on his side, facing away from Jess, who simply waited. After a couple of minutes Deron's hand crept beneath the pillows and slid out three photographs, creased and curling at the corners. He turned onto his back again, studying them with an expression close to detachment.  
  
"These are them. My girls. They're beautiful."  
  
He frowned in concentration as he said it, eyes running over every line of the pictures, taking them in although he'd clearly memorised them long ago. Then his eyes flickered to Jess, that same frown on his face.  
  
"I'm supposed to be happy with this, Jess."  
  
There was a quality to his voice, his words, that sounded inexplicably lost; a crack in the last couple of words that made Jess notice the way his eyes were glistening and red-rimmed; a pulse that jumped against the tightened muscles of his throat. And Jess thought about all of the times that he had seen Deron like this, or worse, in fits of rage or drunk to the point of blackouts just to forget, escape, locked within his own mind.  
  
"Deron...I don't know if you can ever be happy."  
  
His breath caught at that before he brought a hand to his mouth and began chewing at his fingernails, his other hand clenched around the bedclothes. Jess laid a hand on his arm and started to speak again.  
  
"I'm sorry, that sounded..."  
  
"No. It's okay," Deron interrupted, lowering his hand and staring straight ahead, some look of incomprehension on his face, mouth slightly open. Then he turned to Jess, reached out slowly, twisted sideways and leaned upwards, and his eyes fluttered closed and his tongue edged out, traced the contours of Jess' lips methodically before dipping between them. Jess gasped slightly and closed his own eyes, his fingers finding their way into Deron's messy hair. There was something electric in it, and afterwards Jess would swear blind that he actually heard a click, like an analogy made audible. But for ten seconds he just breathed softly and managed not to fall over, managed to make Deron moan just by pressing a little harder, tongue against teeth.  
  
They broke apart slowly, it was a dream-like moment, even more so when Deron settled back on the pillows with eyes still closed, fingertips at his shining lips. Jess took a deep breath and steadied himself against the bunk.  
  
"Dude. That was...why did you do that?"  
  
Deron opened his eyes, pupils shrinking as the light hit them. His voice mirrored Jess'; soft, lethargic.  
  
"You're the only person who's understood that about me."  
  
Jess couldn't do more than stare, still, so Deron leant up again, arms thrown out behind him, face tilted upwards to within three inches of the drummer's. He smiled hesitantly, doubt still lingering in his eyes.  
  
"But you know...I think maybe I could be."


End file.
